Last Measure of Devotion (TCOTU, Book 5) (This Corner of the Universe) (2 page)

Fuller
returned his gaze to Heskan.  “I didn’t mean to upset you with the news from
McMillon, Captain.  I’d just be negligent in my own duties if I didn’t mention
the potential of a grievance from your victims against your privateer parent
company.”

“Former
company,” Heskan corrected.

Fuller
smiled widely.  “Of course.”  He looked at the top of his desk, ostensibly to
check his datapad.  “You are most certainly a full Seshafian now, every bit one
as each of us.”  His eyebrows shot up as if something struck him.  “This
obviously means that you will allow the media on your bridge from now on, yes?”

Heskan
cringed visibly but forced a smile.  “I’ll be delighted to have you on the C-Three
ship although it appears that I cannot guarantee your safety considering
IaCom’s—, how did you phrase it?  The
animalism
displayed by IaCom’s
actions against our fleet commander’s ship.”

“Is
AmyraCorp planning recourse for that, Garrett?” Fuller asked with wide,
innocent eyes.

Heskan
shrugged.  “That is a decision far above my pay grade, Chase.”  It was a lie by
omission.  The ultimate decision was made by Covington but Heskan had attended
the meeting.  He added with another benign shrug, “I’m still new to the
workings of your rather complicated system of justice.” 
It never hurts to
cover the trail with a dash of feigned ignorance
.

“Indeed,”
Fuller replied.  “And what type of government’s justice are you familiar with,
Garrett?”

Heskan
once again shook his head and reverted to his planned answer.  Its delivery
sounded a little too mechanical this time, even to himself.  “You know that
articles regarding the confidentiality of privateering prevent me from
answering that.”

Fuller
reached over the desktop and placed a supportive hand on Heskan’s shoulder. 
The man’s voice was an ocean of reassurance.  His eyes were predatory.  “Come
now, Garrett.  You’re Seshafian now and it’s not like it’s a secret where
Secure Solutions draws their captains from.”  Fuller winked playfully at Camera
One.  “I won’t tell anyone your secret!”  He chuckled at his witticism along
with the audience.  “You don’t even have to say anything, Garrett.  Just nod if
you’ve ever held the rank of Komandor.”

Heskan
merely stared at Fuller as the audience broke into a light chatter in anticipation
of their mysterious hero’s origins.  Heskan remained a statue.

Fuller
rocked back slightly and changed course.  “Or don’t you believe that the good
citizens of Seshafi deserve to know what type of man their admiral-to-be is…
and where he came from?”

The
background chatter ceased instantly at the remark.  Heskan felt his
self-control falter as he glared at the man.  He thought of lives lost a week
ago and the lunacy of having to dance to this man’s fiddle.  His final thoughts
were not of where he came from but of all that he had been through, before his
last semblance of composure was jettisoned.  “Look, you pompous ass, I told you
I’m not allowed to answer that question and you promised me before this show
that you wouldn’t ask it.”

Fuller’s
jaw dropped at his guest’s rebuke.  He glanced to his director, whose
expression mirrored his own, before raising a hand to silence Heskan.  For the
first time in a long time, Fuller stuttered.  “I, I don’t think—”

“Not
exactly a news flash,” Heskan growled over the man.  “Now, let me finish.”  He
risked a look to his right and saw Vernay covering her face with both hands. 
Covington’s warning flashed through his mind again, causing him to exhale
slowly before looking directly into the nearest camera to launch his appeal. 
“I can understand that each of you might want to know more about me,” Heskan
admitted.  “You deserve the open and honest truth, but you and the sailors
under my command also deserve security, and that security could very well be
compromised if certain details of the battle were leaked to Sade.  We’ve
already seen the lengths of Saden treachery and the impact it can have on the
lives of your sons and daughters.  I’ll be damned if I reveal information that
might be used against them.”

Heskan
swallowed as he nodded slowly in a fatal acceptance.  “I understand your need
to know more about the person trying to fill Admiral Cooke’s shoes and even if
I can’t tell you exactly where I come from, maybe I can tell you a little about
who I am.”  Eyes never wavering from the camera, Heskan explained earnestly,
“I’ve seen my share of war, enough to know that any level of engagement is a
brutal and terrible thing.”  He cast a sideways glance at Fuller before
continuing.  “I know there are rumors that I’m some kind of glory hound,
looking to write his name on The Wall of Heroes by using the blood of Seshafian
sailors.”  He shook his head.  “That’s not true.  Every life lost under my
command haunts me, and Seshafian lives are as precious to me as all the other
sailors and marines I’ve entered battle with.  To the sailors that may be
placed under my command who are watching me now, I want to tell you this.  I
can't promise you that I will bring you all home alive but I swear before you
now that if we are forced into another battle, I will sail into the fray with
you and we will sail off the battlespace together.  Dead or alive, we will all
come home with honor.”

Stunned
silence from the audience took the place of Heskan’s voice.  He looked at the
members seated closest to him.  One, an elderly man with a fearsome scar etched
down his face, wiped at his eyes before rising slowly to his feet and began to
applaud.  Like a wave propagating outward from a stone thrown into a pond, each
audience member rose and cheered.  The cacophony drowned out Fuller’s next
words as he reluctantly joined the standing ovation.  The director resorted to
hand signals to count down the show’s remaining seconds and the audience was
still cheering when the red light atop Camera One faded out.

Over
the subsiding roar of the crowd, Fuller beamed amicably at Heskan while coldly
warning, “You dare to cross swords with me?  I will eviscerate you, Garrett.” 
He stepped around the desk to shake Heskan’s hand heartily.  “Enjoy the adoration
now because your every action will be demonized.  I’ll see that each of your
steps will be one step farther away from the hearts and minds of these
people.”  He turned from Heskan and brought his hands to his mouth to blow
kisses toward the audience.

Heskan
merely shook his head and quickly retreated from the stage.

“That
went well,” Vernay said sarcastically as she peered around Heskan to watch Fuller
signing autographs near his desk.  “And I thought I was the one with the uncontrollable
temper.  You’re not going to change the whole dynamic of our relationship, are
you?”

Heskan
ground his teeth and swore under his breath.  “That was so stupid of me.”  He
stalked past Vernay, desperate to flee the scene of the crime.  “Covington gave
me one job this morning and I blew it.”

“Hey,”
Vernay spun gracefully in place and trotted toward her captain.  She reached
out to place a hand delicately around his elbow.  “Garrett, it wasn’t that
bad.  That jerk deserved it and, besides, your speech at the end was perfect.”

Heskan
stopped and turned back to face her.  His eyes glanced downward at her hand resting
on his arm before looking back to her face.  She met his stare only briefly
before removing her hand and looking away shyly.  “Do you really think it
wasn’t that bad, Stacy?”

Vernay
replied while still inspecting the tops of her shoes.  “Yeah, Captain.  You’re
always at your best when you’re talking about defending principles and how much
you care about the people serving under you.  That’s your wheelhouse.”

Heskan’s
datapad chirped.  He looked down at it and grimaced.  “Guess we’ll find out
soon enough.  The archduke has invited me to ride up with him to the orbital
for Dioscuri’s christening ceremony.”

“Is
that what they finally decided to call her?” Vernay asked.

Heskan
nodded.  “Yeah.  Seshafi seems to be big into mythological names for their ships
of the line.  It probably has something to do with their ties to the
Commonwealth.”

Heskan
had never seen a finer shuttlecraft than the one belonging to Archduke Covington. 
He ran a hand over the intricately carved arm of his oak chair for the third
time.  Only one other person shared the extravagant passenger compartment with
him. 
This shuttle is closer to a yacht with atmospheric capabilities
,
Heskan judged
.
  His glass rattled lightly in its holder as the shuttle pushed
its way through Seshafi Major’s thick atmosphere.

“You’ve
barely touched your cognac,” Joshua Covington observed.

Heskan
fretfully tugged at the collar of his newly tailored naval service coat.  Just
over a week ago, the archduke remarked that Heskan would look “smashing” in the
Seshafian uniform and Vernay had informed him that the CEO was correct,
especially while wearing the service dress.  The entire uniform was a throwback
to the Terran age of “Wooden Ships and Iron Men.”  The top coat, colloquially
called a choker because of its stiff standing collar, ensured no sailor would
willingly wear it for daily duties.  While Heskan conceded that the service uniform
was striking, he was unsurprised given the seeming obsession that corporate
navies had over their regalia. 
But when it’s all said and done,
Heskan
mused,
I’m grateful to be wearing a military uniform again.  It feels good;
it feels right.

“I’m
just not used to drinking while in uniform, Archduke.”  Heskan picked up the
brandy snifter.  He imitated Covington’s swirling motions with the glass while
trying his best not to spill the dark liquid.

“Joshua,
please… we’re alone now, Garrett,” Covington said with a friendly smile that
morphed into a frown as he studied his glass.  “This should be in a tulip, you
know.  More surface area for the cognac and the bouquet is more forcefully
directed.”  The patrician stuck his nose deep into the snifter and inhaled. 
After several moments, his eyes refocused on Heskan.  “Still, it’s the rare
Hollaran that declines a snifter because of his dress.”  AmyraCorp’s CEO stared
thoughtfully at Heskan.  After a period, the man finally sipped his drink and a
slow smile spread across his lips.  “Garrett, I’ve been waiting for the proper
time and I must ask.  During the battle, why did you refuse to strike your
lights?”

Heskan
felt his heart rate increase even though he had been expecting this line of questioning
for several days.  He raised his glass and gulped.  Its contents were liquid
fire.  He covered his mouth to cough lightly as Covington chuckled
good-naturedly.  When Heskan was able to speak, he answered, “Because I didn’t
have a choice.”

It
was a true statement.  At the time, Heskan felt he was without options. 
Submitting to Wallace would have left his crew without a future.  Heskan sighed
as he recalled the battle. 
I couldn’t quit on them
, he reflected. 
They
deserved better than that after everything I’ve dragged them through
.  “I
owed it to my crew not to give up, Joshua.”  He thought of
Anelace’s
final charge at
Blackheart
and shook his head. 
You barely knew them
back then and you still refused to quit long after you should have.
 
“Maybe… maybe I just don’t know how to quit.  Even when I should.”

Covington
grunted at the confession and considered it.  Finally, he stated, “I’ve never
heard a response like that from a Hollaran privateer before.”  He looked Heskan
directly in the eyes and added, “But then, you aren’t Hollaran, are you?”

Heskan
looked downward while shaking his head almost imperceptibly.  “No.”

“Am
I correct in assuming that your departure from the Republic was not amicable?”

It’s
all coming out now
,
Heskan thought. 
Maybe it needs to.
  “You are correct, Archduke.”  He
held his breath.

Covington
placed his glass carefully into his chair arm’s receptacle
,
leaned forward and rested a
weathered hand on Heskan’s knee.  “Garrett, did you leave because the Republic is
losing their war?”

The
question surprised Heskan enough to knock him out of his introspection.  He looked
at Covington directly.  “No!” he insisted.  “More than anything, I would have wanted
to stay and help them win it.”

“Then
why did you leave?”

Heskan’s
brow furrowed as he searched for the answer.  “Because there are more important
things than winning a war, Joshua.”  He felt his shoulders slump.  “I
understand that probably isn’t what you want to hear from the commander of your
fleet, sir.” 
Have I blown it?  What’s the record for the shortest career in
the Seshafian navy?

Covington eased back
into his chair and picked up his glass.  “That was exactly the answer I was
hoping to hear, Garrett.”  The man smiled and nodded.  “Truth be told, I’ve
suspected your origins based on observations for quite a while now.  I don’t
know how you came to captain a Hollaran snow inside a privateer outfit, but you
and that spitfire first officer were clearly neither Hollaran nor Solarian.” 
He brought the snifter back to his nose and inhaled the aroma before continuing. 
“Admiral Cooke suspected as well.  In fact, he insisted that just because you
were probably Brevic, that didn’t necessarily mean you were a barbarian.  I’m
glad I listened to his counsel.  But still, Garrett, I needed to be certain.  I
had to be sure that you weren’t the kind of man who would grind any amount of
meat to achieve a victory solely for victory’s sake.”

*  *  *

Admiral
Oliver Wallace was working toward victory in his office when a chime announced
the arrival of his next appointment.

“Proceed,”
Wallace rumbled without looking up from his desk.  He scanned the document before
him with an adept’s critical eye.  Sade’s new
casus bellum
would be
perfect.  His peripheral senses informed him that the gentleman who entered his
office was now standing patiently near the front of his desk.  Despite being
mostly satisfied with the text of his document, Wallace saw several
opportunities for minor improvement before presenting it to IaCom’s chief
operating officer.  He considered annotating the changes despite the presence
of the Secure Solutions representative waiting for him.  Ultimately, he placed his
datapad down even as his grey eyes looked up.  “I trust my money was well
spent.”

Colby
Persin looked nervously around the room before meeting the admiral’s stare. 
“We are refunding payment back to your personal account, Viscount.  We, uh, were
unable to acquire new information regarding this Garrett Heskan.”

Wallace
felt a familiar surge of heat rising to his cheeks and grappled to maintain his
volume at a reasonable level.  “Mr. Persin, are you telling me that your
company is so poorly run that it welcomes anyone into its ranks despite knowing
nothing of their former service?”

“That’s
not exactly fair, Viscount—”

“What
will other corporate systems think when I inform them that, apparently, Secure
Solutions sends utter strangers to represent them in battle?”

“Viscount,
this is a completely unprecedented situation!” Persin declared.  “Secure
Solutions has the strictest of standards when adding to our ranks.  You know
that as well as any corporate admiral, sir.”

“Then
explain yourself, Mr. Persin.”

The
privateer representative took a moment to steel himself.  Finally, he assuaged,
“We understand your concerns, Viscount.  In fact, we more than understand them and
we intend to make this little accident up to you, sir.”

“Little?”
Wallace erupted.  “Your
little
accident cost Sade the entire
casus
bellum
, sir!  Your error destroyed our best chance to absorb AmyraCorp with
as little cost or exposure as possible and finally, it cost an immeasurable
loss to my personal honor and standing not only in this system but also in every
corporate world! 
My
ship struck her lights!  Because of you,
I
was
forced to yield!”

The
man in front of Wallace rocked back under the booming verbal assault.  When the
echoes of the famed Red Admiral’s rage subsided, Persin offered meekly,
“Viscount, Mr. Tunnings himself offers you his personal apology and
additionally wishes to return the non-intervention fee you paid us four months
ago along with the fee you most recently paid us to uncover Garrett Heskan’s
past.”

Wallace
shook his head angrily.  “This is no longer a financial concern for me,
Colby.”  He pointed to a frozen image of Heskan, a still from a short video of
the man being escorted into AmyraCorp’s headquarters building on Seshafi
Major.  Wallace had used the scene as the default display image for his wall
screen since the day after his return to Sade.  “That man insults me!” Wallace
exclaimed.  “I cannot permit some Hollaran privateer to impugn my honor without
a swift and suitable consequence!  Now tell me who this man is or watch your company’s
reputation collapse when I explain to other corporate systems the dismal state
of your internal affairs!”

Persin
hung his head.  “Viscount… we don’t know who he is.  All of our contacts inside
the Hollaran military have come up empty.  Nobody is willing to admit that they
know the man!”  Persin looked up to make eye contact with the irate Saden as he
pleaded.  “Even Landon Tunnings has run up against a wall and he has contacts
with some of the highest ranking intelligence assets in the Commonwealth.  We’ve
done everything we can, Viscount.  This man may as well be a ghost.”

Wallace
folded his arms angrily and sat in silent contemplation for several moments. 
“Then what can Secure Solutions offer me, Colby?”

“Our
sincerest apologies, a refund…”  Persin paused for a fraction of a second
before adding, “And our enthusiastic support for your next
casus bellum
.”

The
corners of Wallace’s mouth began to turn upward for the first time that
morning.  “How enthusiastic, Colby?”

“Unreserved,
Viscount… and gratis.”

Wallace
leaned back in his chair as a smile widened across his face.  Secure Solutions,
a subsidiary of the Foster Fifteen, had access to some of the finest Hollaran
military hardware and sailors in the galaxy.

Sensing the change in
the direction of the wind, Persin rapidly seized on the opportunity and added, “While
we know that nothing can undo the terrible humiliation you endured, we want you
to know that Secure Solutions is taking this matter very personally, Viscount. 
You are a most valued and respected client and it has pained us greatly to know
that we have, unwillingly, been involved in the stigma inflicted upon you. 
It’s Mr. Tunnings’ goal that our unequivocal support during your next action
will demonstrate how seriously we take this matter, and our hope is that through
our performance, your ire at our awkward situation regarding this Garrett
Heskan might be calmed and your tongue stayed.”

*  *  *

Agent
Aaron Jennings paused as he tried to remember the exact details of his last
encounter with Garrett Heskan.  “Words to the effect of ‘I haven’t hurt the
Republic and I don’t intend to hurt it as long as you let us escape,’” he
stated stiffly while sitting bolt upright.  The man opened his eyes upon
completion of his recollection, desperately hoping he had recited the statement
correctly.

Jennings
sat in a firm chair inside a plainly decorated interview room.  Upon entering,
he had stolen a glimpse away from the pair seated opposite of him but failed to
locate the cameras he knew must be in the room.  Upon reopening his eyes, he
saw the weary expression, so familiar now, on Secretary Brewer’s face.  He
glanced slightly to his right.  Sitting just one meter from him was the compact
frame of the Minister of Intelligence herself.  Her emotionless, green eyes were
unfathomable to him.  Jennings quickly diverted his gaze as if staring too long
into the jade orbs risked extinction.  He was more correct than not.

“Anything
else, Aaron?” Brewer asked in a detached voice.

Jennings
shook his head.  “No, just that and some warnings about leaking information
about the Parasites and something called Praxidike, sir.”

Silence
took hold over the room as Jennings continued to fight the urge to look at the
minister.  During the entire forty-five minute interview, she had remained
silent.  Jennings had answered each question in front of the minister exactly
as prepared by Brewer, a day earlier.  They had arrived at the end of the
questioning.  He desperately wanted to ask if he was dismissed but knew better.

“Thank
you, Agent,” Brewer said in conclusion.  “Your testimony has been helpful and I
believe we’re done—”

“Characterize
the relationship between Garrett Heskan and Isabella Lombardi De Luca,”
Minister Fane interrupted.  Her voice was a surprisingly rich contralto.

Clear
evidence of panic shot through Jennings’ eyes as he stared at Brewer for
guidance.  He had been told to avoid this subject at all costs.  Brewer
remained impassive.

“Well…”
Jennings’ faltering eyes swept from Brewer to Fane.  The minister seemed to be almost
swaying slightly.  In the instant Jennings’ eyes met Fane’s, he was promised
that any attempt of deception would be both instantly detected and mercilessly
disciplined.  “Romantic,” he finished.